


Falling, Again

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gene doesn't listen to Sam's concerns, and Sam has to bear the consequences. Again.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>There had been more of them than both Gene and he had expected. Well, actually, he kind of had expected something like this, but, as usual, his DCI had absolutely refused to listen to his concerns.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling, Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debl_ns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debl_ns/gifts).



> Written for the Martian Exchange, for debl_ns. The prompt was "I'd love some Sam!whumpage. Can include humour, if you wish, or simply h/c and angst. Prompt word: chill."

The bridge.

 

Why had they agreed on meeting on the bridge again? That had been a bloody bad idea.

 

There had been more of them than both Gene and he had expected. Well, actually, he kind of _had_ expected something like this, but, as usual, his DCI had absolutely refused to listen to his concerns:

 

 

“ _Guv, we should have back-up, just in case –“_

 

“ _Back-up my arse, we're dealin' with snouts. They'll scram if there's too many of us.”_

 

“ _And what if they're tryin' to set us up? We've only met them once, twice tops. Honestly Guv, I don't trust them any farther than I can spit. And besides, this is way out of town, we really should –“_

 

“ _We won't, and that's my last word, Tyler!”_

 

 

_**_

 

 

Sam blocked the fist flying towards his face, but he couldn't stop the one burying itself in his abdomen. All air being forcibly driven out of his lungs, he doubled over with a pained grunt. No time to recover, though – the next punch connected with his cheek, and Sam was sent stumbling towards the bannister.

 

 

**

 

 

The snouts had been there, yes, two scruffy figures standing on the other side of the bridge, waiting by the river. Gene had haphazardly parked the Cortina a little way off. Sam had done his best to ignore the weird tingling sensation in his belly, one which he was only slowly and reluctantly learning to associate with the premonition of a bad situation. Gut instinct, in short.

 

So they had stepped onto the bridge, and Sam had seen one of the men straighten up slightly, and the uneasy tinge in his gut had become slightly stronger. On an impulse, he had looked back, and seen them – a group of men, idly moving towards them.

 

“Guv.” Sam had stopped and grabbed his DCI's arm. Gene had glanced back as well, and muttered something like “bugger”, and then shuffling noises had turned their attention back to the two snouts. Just, there hadn't been two of them any more – they had doubled up to four.

 

 

**

 

Sam was holding onto the bannister, the cold metal biting into his skin. It was unusually chilly today, wasn't it? He ducked, miraculously avoiding the blow that had been aimed at his nose, and delivered a kick that sent one of his opponents stumbling to the ground. He tried to see how Gene was doing, but all he could make out was that he hadn't gone down yet, apparently, which probably was a good thing.

 

His attention was abruptly brought back to his own situation when he saw one of the men make a grab for his arms. Sam pushed himself away from the railings and lunged forward, his forehead cleanly connecting with his attacker's face. That had been a bad move though, since the impact left Sam dazed for one moment too long.

 

There was a sickening _crunch_ as something heavy smashed Sam's left shoulder – Christ, had they really brought an iron bar with them? He stumbled to the side with a hoarse, pained cry, and was met with a second well-aimed punch in the gut.

 

Someone shouted his name. _Gene?_ The pain radiating from his shoulder was already clouding his perception, but Sam still did his best to fight back, before another hit sent him staggering backwards. For a moment, his back connected with the metal bannister again, the cold material sending a chill up his spine, and then he felt how physics and gravity set to do their work.

 

It was ridiculous, really, how slow time suddenly seemed to pass. Sam could very nearly see himself, slowly toppling over, backwards. The bannister really wasn't high enough, somebody should file a complaint, and anyway what was it with all those silly thoughts racing through his mind – and then there was no ground beneath his feet any longer, and the world shifted, and then Sam was falling.

 

 _Falling again_ , he thought, _how silly_.

 

 

And then the cold hit him like a speeding car. Sam was enveloped by the icy water of the river, he was sinking, fast. His attempt to move, swim back up to the surface, was brutally intercepted by the screaming pain in his shoulder.

 

Sinking. Need to get back up. Stupid shoulder.

 

Sinking. Suddenly the pain was gone, and in its place was... nothing. No feeling in his shoulder, and he seemed to have trouble locating his other limbs as well.

 

Sinking. It wasn't cold any more now, just chilly. He really shouldn't have taken his other, thicker leather jacket, the one Gene had helped him pick for the winter, it was weighing him down. But the chill that morning...

 

Sinking. God, need to breathe.

 

Sinking...

 

 

 

 

Something roughly yanked his arm. Sam couldn't tell if it was the injured one. He also couldn't tell how or when it happened, but the next thing he remembered was coughing and hacking up what felt like half the river's amount of water.

 

It took Sam a while to realise that somebody was holding him, steadying his upper body while he heaved. The touch registered as a strange, faintly tingling sensation in his brain, and another, undefinable amount of time passed before Sam understood that this was because of how cold his body felt.

 

Cold, cold, cold.

 

“Sam? Tyler, talk to me.”

 

Cold.

 

“Tyler!”

 

Cold.

 

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

 

Had he actually said that out loud? Judging from the burning in his throat, he apparently had indeed. Sam tried to speak again, but found that his lips and tongue wouldn't comply. Instead, he became aware of the uncontrollable shivers that were shaking his body.

 

“Christ, Sam. Breathe.”

 

Sam felt confused for a moment, before realising he indeed had been holding his breath. It took him a few terrible moments to figure out how to release the air from his lungs, and the next breath he took in was slow and shaky, and lead to another coughing fit.

 

Finally, he had recovered enough to notice that it was suspiciously quiet around them.

 

“Where –“ he began, but his voice was a mere wheezing, and it still was hard, way too hard to properly coordinate his lips and tongue.

 

Suddenly the world around him shifted, and for a second Sam was afraid that he would lose consciousness. But no, Gene had merely pushed him back into a half-lying position, propping up Sam's back with his own arm. “Case you're wonderin' 'bout the thugs, they made a run for it. Got scared when you weren't comin' back up. Murder of a police officer 'pparently wasn't what they 'ad in mind.”

 

As Gene spoke, Sam managed to focus on his face, and what he saw there was very strange. His DCI was thoroughly sodden as well as pale, which made the bruises he himself had received during the brawl stand out starkly. It wasn't that which brought Sam up short, though; rather, it was the fact that he felt that Gene had been about to say something else.... _They got scared when you weren't comin' back up – and they weren't the only ones._

 

A droplet of water fell down from Gene's hair and right onto Sam's face, making him blink, and the thought, no, the feeling was gone.

 

Just then, a particularly strong shiver had Sam shift slightly, and that was when he remembered his injured shoulder – not voluntarily, it simply decided at just that moment to give a particularly vicious throb of pain. He seized up with a strangled cry.

 

As if this had broken some kind of spell, time all of a sudden appeared to speed up incredibly. Suddenly Sam found himself sat down in the Cortina, his soaking wet jacket having disappeared somewhere. The pain was coming and going in irregular waves, but as much as he wanted to, Sam couldn't move, couldn't curl up, couldn't do a bloody thing. Gene, where was Gene? He'd been there just a moment ago...

 

“Gene...”

 

“'m right 'ere, Sammy-boy, don't you worry.”

 

His voice sounded so distant, but Sam still noticed a strained edge in it, and thought that this wasn't right, the voice sounded almost as cold as he felt. One small part of his mind that wasn't entirely clouded yet told him that Gene had pulled him out of the river, the freezing river, he was entirely drenched too, so he had to be cold as well, he should warm himself, and not be driving a car, shouldn't be caring about Sam, shouldn't... shouldn't... should...

 

Another vicious stab of pain finally catapulted Sam into blissful unconsciousness.

 

 

Sam was woken up by an explosion-like sneeze. 

 

His eyes flew open, but the first moment all he saw was blinding white, and he screwed them shut again, instead listening to the hammering of his heart, and wondering if he had gone to heaven now. But then again, he couldn't imagine that anyone in heaven would possibly sneeze like this.

 

So the question now was – who had sneezed?

 

Slowly, Sam opened his eyes again, and at the same time tried to shift his head. He heard a creaking and rustling, and a second later a tall shape was by his side, towering well above him.

 

“Sam?”

 

Something about the voice made Sam frown. It took him a while to realise that that was mostly because the voice had actually said something that was closer to “Sab”, than his actual name. Sam took a deep breath, before trying to articulate a proper sentence.

 

“Where...”

 

He didn't get any farther.

 

“'ospital. Been asleep for a bit. Doctors fixed up your shoulder, said it'd heal nicely over time. You were damn lucky, Tyler.”

 

Sam frowned. His shoulder? What about it...? And then, as he gradually became more awake, he remembered.

 

The bridge. The brawl. He'd been hit, and then he'd fallen... into the river... And Gene –

 

“... Gene, are you –“

 

“Me? 'm fine, top o' the w... wo.....” The sentence was forever left unfinished as Gene turned away barely in time to sneeze again, and this time, Sam flinched, involuntarily thinking that the next of Gene's sneezes would blow away a wall. Or Sam himself, including the bed, at least. He couldn't help it, the thought made him smile.

 

“Oh, go right ahead an' make fun o' me.” grumbled Gene, after having blown his nose.

 

By now, Sam was able to focus properly and take in the sight of his DCI. The first thing he noticed was that Gene's trademark camel hair coat was gone; instead, someone had wrapped a thick blanket around him. The fact that he had actually kept the blanket on gave Sam a slight tinge of worry – did that mean Gene was worse off than he was letting on?

 

Gene seemed to have read his mind, for he snorted and raised his chin slightly. “ 's just a cold, you girl. The Gene Genie doesn't succumb to a bit o' sniffin' and sneezin'.” Yet he wrapped the blanket around himself a bit tighter as he sat down in a chair which Sam noticed only now.

 

“Really nothin' more than that?” Sam was pleased to find that he seemed to have regained proper control over his mouth.

 

Gene merely glared at him, yet said nothing.

 

“Good, I guess.” Sam exhaled and shifted a bit, half-heartedly attempting to sit up. His entire arm had been put in a very uncomfortable cast, and moving was a difficult task.

 

Gene watched him wriggle about fruitlessly for a bit, before he muttered, “Y'know Tyler, just 'cause you disagree with me doesn't mean you 'ave to go an' throw yourself into the bloody river to prove your point.”

 

Sam stopped his attempts and looked at his DCI, an eyebrow raised. “Is that you tryin' to say I was actually right about the back-up?”

 

The only response was a glare and a snort.

 

“Yeah right, didn't think so.” He now buried his head further in the soft pillow and sighed. He still felt cold, too cold, but he figured that the layers of blankets wrapped around him would probably do their job soon enough. “So those _snouts_ got away.”

 

“Yeah.” Gene honked into his hanky again. “Couldn't well take after 'em an' leave my deputy dog to drown, could I.”

 

Silence fell between them as Sam considered the events. Gene had actually jumped after him...

 

“... thank you, Guv. Gene.”

 

The man merely huffed, but the glance he gave Sam was strangely soft.

 

“Jus' don't do it again.”

 

Sam chuckled. “I'll do my best.”

 

“An' of course it's your round at the pub. For the sniffles.”

 

At this, Sam actually laughed, despite his sore throat. “You wish, Gene. You wish.”


End file.
